


004

by Anonymous



Category: DREAM!ing (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, NSFW, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 18:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Shishimaru Takaomi is sensitive to touch.Nito Senri exploits it.





	004

**Author's Note:**

> p2w but take out the 2 and add another p at the end. Fuck you RNG I want my Senri SSR aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAA

Shishimaru Takaomi is sensitive to touch.

_No,_ Senri thinks, ‘sensitive’ is an understatement. Shishimaru Takaomi goes _nuclear_ whenever he’s touched. Especially when it comes to Senri.   
  
Just the smallest of shoulder bumps, misplaced hands, any contact that isn’t deemed necessary or related to their usual ill-mannered roughhousing and bickering seems to trigger Takaomi’s fight-or-flight response, resulting in some incredibly uncharacteristic reactions:   
  
His cheeks would flush in shades of bewilderment. Words would tumble out of his mouth, barely-open, and be mashed into a spluttering pulp by teeth and tongue.   
  
And his gaze, usually so firm and insistent, would be faintly diverted, slightly blown pupils tend to stare off into nothingness, drowning in a sea of thoughts. And recently, it seems to be getting progressively worse. 

Senri Nito finds it mesmerising.

Once he’s noticed the small responses he's receiving, getting Takaomi, _his reactions_ , off his mind was purely impossible. His mischievousness, ill-natured and errant as always, had bubbled up.   
  
Curiosity-doused fantasies had festered in his mind, desperately tugged and yanked at his heart strings, practically begging him to exploit that reaction of his, to see for himself how Takaomi would act like when he finally gets pushed off the edge, how he’d look like with expressions other than the “usual”: cold and prideful.

So he scratched the itch.

Senri started faking accidents, lunging in for hugs only to turn to Yuma, bumping shoulders with Takaomi in the hallway almost periodically, hands always too-close-but-not-really to his.

And his fingers, they would occasionally brush past Takaomi's back, daintily jumping on and off shoulder blades while aimlessly pacing around their dorm room.  
  
His experience as an actor shone through, and he was proud of himself, even though Takaomi’s death glares were enough to signal that he could see right through his bullshit intent. And he didn't like it. At all.

  
Senri decides to kick it up a notch. 

\---  
  
Shishimaru Takaomi was annoyed. Incredibly annoyed at whatever-the-fuck the current situation had devolved into.   
  
First, it was the touchy-feely stuff. Senri's intent was bare-boned, incredibly so: he wanted to elicit embarrassing reactions from him. His flexibility had its own limits, dodging was only feasible for a couple of times before the inevitable happened: _body contact._   
  
Body contact. Takaomi couldn't say he disliked being touched in particular, but his natural reaction to it was too...embarrassing to bear. He couldn't control how sensitive his skin reacted to certain touches, sure, but the people who intentionally set out to trigger that problem of his bothered him to no end.   
  
(But of course he wouldn't pass on an opportunity to humiliate him in public, _that shitty rabbit..._ )   
  
And now, _this_ . Takaomi was 200% sure this was related to whatever plan he had in mind, and it was mildly infuriating.   
  
Lying right in the middle of their shared sofa was an erotic magazine. Face-down and open, its pages fanning out in such a fashion as if to intentionally hint that it's been read, _or potentially, to pique his interest._   
  
He poked at the splayed pages, fingernails tracing over dots of printer ink. The gravure model on the coated cover stared back at him, smiling. He mentally cringed.   
  
Beyond Takaomi's mental debacle, gears turning slowly in an attempt to solve this "mystery", two arms had snaked in-between his own, enveloping his waist from behind.

  
He jolted.

"Aw~ do you like Rina-chan? Her photoshoots are really top-notch material, y'know." Senri whispered into his right ear, hot breath wrapping around his nerves as his seductive tone sent shivers down his spine. His chest, lukewarm and soft, pressed flush against his back. Radiating heat seeped past their shirts, into flesh and bones, with thin fabric serving as the only separation in-between bare skinship.  
  
Takaomi, overwhelmed, stayed silent. Senri's hands moved down to caress his torso, hands barely hovering above the waistline of his cargo jeans, fingers threatening to hook inside.   
  
"Hey, Shishimaru? Earth to Bakamaru?"   
  
_That disgustingly sweet teasing tone again._ Senri’s arms reached, stretched down to his thighs, carefully fanning digits around the soft curves to stroke their inner regions. Takaomi felt his breath hitch. _This feels good..._   
  
  
...Wait, "This feels good"?   
  
  
Something clicks. He snaps out of his trance.   
  
Turning around, he roughly shoves Senri away, sending a mess of limbs and orange hair flying. 

Surprised and losing balance, Senri trips, harshly toppling onto the sofa. “Hey-- ow!” He squeaked in protest, hands lifting up to rub the sore spot on the back of his head while shooting dirty looks at a flustered Takaomi.

"T-this is borderline sexual harassment, you shitty r-rabbit!" He returns the gesture rigidly, glaring daggers at the sofa. Disgust slowly seeps into his cracked voice.

  
Hurriedly, he gathers up his personal belongings scattered on the desk, slipped on his sandals and stormed outside, all without sparing another glance behind.

  
\----   
  
When Takaomi heads back from the convenience store with a bag of impulse-bought snacks, he hears the shower running.   
  
_This is good,_ he thinks, kicking the door shut. Not necessarily because he didn't have the courage to deal with Senri. It was the complete opposite, actually. He'd love to beat the shit out of that fucking rabbit after what he'd pulled.

But gathering up the mentality to do so right now was too troublesome. Fatigue wins over his frustration in the end.

  
Once he drops off the snacks and heads upstairs to his bed, however, he notices it.   
  
Senri's gravure magazine is currently sitting on top of his bed, properly closed, placed neatly in the corner of orange sheets. He glares at the smiling cover model.   
  
Then he thinks. Snatching the magazine as if to prove he won't lose to whatever pathetic scheme Senri has in mind, Takaomi starts aimlessly leafing through the pages, wincing at the colourful arrays of postures and choicey clothing.   
  
His train of thoughts abruptly stops, crashing at a double page spread. The photo, a vibrant shot, was adorned with brief, erotic text descriptions that reached across the panels.   
  
Slapped square-on in the dividing line of both pages was a well-endowed gravure model, hair barely reaching shoulder's length, gracefully sitting on a deck chair. The pool behind her glimmered a glittery blue, cool waters stretching across the horizon.   
  
Her fingertips, furnished with cheerful nail polish, disappeared into the waistline of her microkini, while her other hand parted her inner thighs open, index and middle finger teasingly poking at the gentle curves of her skin.

Takaomi stares.

He mindlessly rolls the page corner over and over until it becomes dog-eared. He swallowed. The shower stops running.  
  
The incredibly alluring posture the model was stationed in vaguely reminded him of the way Senri touched him just hours ago. 

The way his hands ghosted over his skin, barely brushing past body hairs, hands clamping over his shirt, his jeans, and the sickening way he whispered in his ear, tone sticky and sweet. He reminiscences the warmth strokes, recalls the tender touches.

He felt his pants tighten and his skin flush, and he mentally berated himself, quietly uttering curses at teen hormones.  
  
_Fuck it_ , he thinks, _teens this age being horny is actually incredibly normal._ Sexual needs wins over both his frustration and fatigue in the very end.

Pulling out a rough estimate of how much time he'd had until Senri left the shower from his sea of thoughts, hazardous calculations, he makes a risky decision. _10 minutes should be enough to get this done..._   
  
Tentatively, he stood up and shimmied his jeans down, stopping just about at knee-length, then plopped down at the edge of his bed again, legs dangling off the frames.   
  
Hooking a finger at the edge of his boxers, he glanced at his own dick, half-hard, lying snug against the elastic fabric. Pulling out a small bottle of moisturiser from under his bed, he sighed, squirted a decent amount into his palms and tugged his length out.   
  
Slathering the liquid onto his hard-on, he palmed at it, right hand reaching over to pull the magazine closer to him.

He stares at the picture and tries reimagining the ways Senri had touched him. Tries imagining the ways he _wanted_ Senri to touch him. Suddenly, his mind was racing a thousand miles on fantasy fuelled tracks. He imagines he's stationed at the poolside on a clear, sunny day.

Thin brows furrowed in concentration as his gaze shifted, taking in his lower body, trying to decide where he should touch first. He settles for the head of his dick, rubbing gentle circles around the tip with his thumb, the edge of his nail scratching lightly against the small opening, stimulating it. He lets out a breathy moan.

Gradually picking up the pace, he jerks his entire hand up and down. The center of his palm rubs all over his length, attempting to smother lotion evenly over the surface. His fingers, the rest of them, repetitively brushes over his entire shaft as he continues jerking himself off, carelessly bumping against the sensitive ridges of skin.

“H-hah…”

Lust starting fogging up rapidly, clouding his rationality and thoughts. He visualises himself in nothing but his trunks, an equally naked figure leaning over him, ginger hair glimmering under the sunlight.

"Ah-" He moans aloud, just as his ears pick up the sound of the bathroom door opening.

_Shit._ Immediately, he bit down on his tongue. Hurriedly reaching towards the tissues stationed on his night stand, he scrubs on his now softened dick and discards them, yanking up his zipper barely in time, right when Senri hastily made his way upstairs, wet towel still wrapped around his neck.   
  
A staring contest commenced near-immediately. Senri is the first to break eye contact.

Still gasping hard for breath, his gaze darted around, attempting to survey the area. Takaomi saw the other’s eyes widen when they land on his sheets. His body stiffens.  
  
"Hey...did you touch my magazine?" Hesitantly, Senri spoke up.

Dark teal eyes flickered to the left, where turquoise ones were staring and froze. Senri's gravure magazine laid open on his bed, still turned to the bright double page spread. Right next to it sat his bottle of moisturiser. Slowly, he uttered a reply.

"...So?"

"I knew it! So that _was_ you!" Senri exclaimed loudly.

“You were jerking off just now, right?! I’m pretty sure I heard your voice!” He takes a couple steps forward. Takaomi realises he can’t back away from his position.

“...So?! You got a problem with that?” He stands up, lunges forward and pulls Senri closer by his collar. Practically growling those words down the other’s throat, navy eyes grew wide with frustration.

“Wow, you can actually get turned on? You seem to only have a hard-on for Uribos, after all,” Senri breathes out, airy and supposedly, in actual amazement. The tension between the two expands tenfold by the second. Takaomi tightens his grip on the fabric.

Until a hand sneaks behind the small of his back and strokes, long strides gentle and fluttery. His grip on the shirt loosens. He chokes out a cough. Senri regains his footing.

“Y’know…” Senri speaks up, tentatively. 

“I could help you with that?” He gestures at his crotch, concluding with a sheepish smile.

Takaomi weights his options. His frustration and fatigue seems to have ebbed away, leaving only his sexual frustrations unsolved.

_If they keep this a secret, what’s there to lose?_

Knowing he would probably regret this for the rest of his life, he nods slightly and gives in.

“Since you basically caused _this_ , you’d better take full responsibility of it, shitty rabbit!” He averts his gaze.

Senri leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth.

\---

It starts out as a tangle of limbs.

Grasping onto a proper pace was easier said than done. Takaomi could feel his frustration on the verge of making a comeback, gradually seeping back in as he messily tugs at Senri’s arms, roughly running a hand over and against the other’s t-shirt.

But for (presumably) both of their first times, that’s most likely to be expected, Takaomi mulls. His frustration lasts right until Senri slips a hand up his shirt. “Hey,”

“Let’s take this one step at a time? We should take off our clothes first.”

“...Right.”

Takaomi takes his time stripping, gingerly peeling off his boxers while Senri, naked and ready long-ago, turns to shoot a glance at his magazine, still open and stationed on the corner of his bed. His facial expressions immediately perked up, Takaomi notes, just as he turned back, turquoise eyes brimming with curiosity.

"So, what did you like about that photo? Her big rack? Her hairstyle? The way she's touching herself?"

  
"Do you want me to touch you like that, too?" His hand ghosted over Takaomi's crotch, face flush with too much excitement. 

  
Near immediately, Takaomi flings his hand over to cover Senri’s mouth.

“If you want to make this work then shut up about that...” he grumbled. A muffled agreement came in response. Senri reaches over and grabs Takaomi’s wrist, repositioning his hand from his mouth over to the side of his body.

With his body positioned in-between his legs and the arm obstructing his view removed, Takaomi gets a proper view of the other boy’s features: 

His waist, slim and flat, was unsurprisingly similar to his own. Identically sharp collarbones, the same shade of pale skin stretching across lean, bony frames. His arms, remarkably void of body hairs, were propped forward, right hand still grabbing onto his own wrist, finger pads pressing softly against skin.

His genitals were around the same size as his, he notes, gaze shifting repetitively in an attempt to compare the two, grimacing at the hints of moisturizer he neglected cleaning just earlier. His sturdy chest floats, dances rhythmically to his breathing, a slow and steady tempo.

And finally, his current expression, a mild mix of amusement and curiosity, breath slowly growing heavy with lust. The way his face flushed a pretty shade of pink, the way his turquoise eyes stared at him, the way his lips parted slightly...

Takaomi realises he wants to see more of him. He leans in closer.

Gently, Senri parts his thighs just a bit more, and dives his splayed hands in, eager to start exploring Takaomi’s body.

  
Senri’s fingers traced lines, starting from his stomach then circling to his back, fingers gently padding a trace of indents onto soft skin. His fingertips moved, curved nails gently scratching and pinching his nipples, eventually moving down to caress the indents of his ribcage. 

  
Takaomi reaches, arms stretching over to return the touches, to touch Senri. His left hand slides in between his inner thighs and longingly strokes, scratches the darker areas while his left hand moves up, mimicking the pinching motions the other had performed on his nipples.

After some light squeezing and tugging, he eventually bends down to run his teeth against the nibs experimentally, grazing against them.

“H-hah…” Senri returns the gestures with moans of his own and more, leaning closer and closer to Takaomi’s neck until the other could feel his breathing brush against his skin. His teeth gently scraped on said area, lightly dragging jagged lines from his neck to his shoulders.

His hands moved downwards to his privates, shifting to palm and caress his length. His fingers tracing long lines from shaft to head, nails gently scratching on the tip of it.

“Hh--!” His breath hitched, audibly so, and for once, Senri was scarily quiet for someone usually so talkative.  
  
"Hey, turn around," Senri finally spoke after what seemed like ages. "Stay on all fours. Ass up." He instructed. Begrudgingly, Takaomi obliged, turning over and burying green strands of hair into his own pillow.

He hears the rustle of sheets and the pacing of footsteps, followed by the soft thud of something landing onto the bed sheets. Senri plops back onto his bed, grabs the bottle of lube he’d just throw onto the sheets and pops the cap open.

It’s gentle, _too gentle-_ he feels fingers rub circles on his perineum, the sensation of cold lube rubbing on his skin, stray droplets dribbling down his balls. Senri’s left hand gripped on his buttocks, fingers grasping on one cheek to pull them open and apart. He shudders involuntarily at the contact and the freshly added lube, holding his breath in anticipation.

His middle finger probed, slowly sinking into his entrance. It’s a weird sensation- a foreign object, awkward and sporadic, attempting to pry its way through. It wiggled, prodding and pressing into his insides, and Takaomi can’t help but wince at the discomfort.

Until another finger slipped in. Two digits moved in a scissoring motion, reaching in as if searching for something, pressing randomly onto his inner walls.

Then his fingers hook forward, just a bit further, and pushes onto a spot. Takaomi almost choked on his breath. “Ah-!”

“Oh! Found your prostate.” An exclamation, words overflowing with enthusiasm. _He definitely prepared for this, that horny bastard..._

But then he purposely avoids touching that spot again, instead opting to stretch his entrance with another finger and added lubrication. Long digits strokes against the creases of his inner walls, fleshy bumps, scissoring and kneading his hole wider.

Takaomi soon grows sexually frustrated.

“You done yet, shitty rabbit?” He turns his head backwards to the best of his ability, trying to shoot a gaze at the other party, left hand reaching upwards to pull his buttocks, along with his entrance a bit wider.

He sees Senri, right hand still stretching his ass, face flushed and sporting a hard erection. Strands of ginger hair stuck to his sweaty face, framing his focused face and turquoise eyes.

“Hm,” a grunt came in response, curt and quiet. Senri extracts his fingers, dragging out a trail of fluids after a few more scissoring motions. He uncaps the lube bottle again, squeezing and slathering a handful on his own length. Moving back to position himself, Takaomi soon feels the tip of Senri’s dick press taut against his entrance. His thumb roughly rubs around its creases.

“Ready?” Senri doesn't wait for a response.

He pushes in. Takaomi holds his breath. He could feel his inner walls pulsate against Senri’s erection, red-hot and flush, fitting snugly inside of him. Tears start welling up in the corner of his eyes from the impact. He chokes on his breath.

“Gh-!” Teardrops stain his pillow cover.

“Relax,” Senri coaxed from behind. With one hand still grasping onto his waist, his other moves to rub circles on Takaomi’s shoulder blade. He talks in a soothing tone. “Let me know when I can move.”

So he waits. And the longer he waits, the harder he feels the other’s erection throbbing inside him, practically seeping with desire and want. He feels the strong heat melting, melding his insides and it's about to drive him crazy.

“Hey,” he breathed, after taking a while to regain his posture, “You can move now.”

Near immediately, he feels a hard thrust shove into him. And for just a second, he forgets how to breathe again.

Senri plunges deep into his hot crevice, throbbing erection sinking into his ass. At first, there's no detectable rhythm: he thrusts messily like his life depends on it, savage and rough, repetitively choking Takaomi’s breath out.

But soon he slows and settles for a more steady pace: quick, shallow thrusts. His hands latches onto the other’s hips, smearing fluids against bare skin while grasping tightly against his hip bones, trying to secure his position.

His dick rams directly at the sweet spot, angling his hips so that he could focus more on targeting his movements towards there, that and _that spot_ _only_ , in an attempt to garner arrays of expressions and noises from the other party.

And it works. Takaomi felt his mind go blank.

“Ga-ah! Slow d-down!” He doesn't.

  
He groaned, face flushed and buried in his saliva-covered pillow. Shaky fingers grasped hard, tugging desperately on the sheets as Senri's hips slammed harder into his, each hit punctuating his prostate with waves of pleasure.   
  
"Hey," He felt Senri's left hand clamp down on his own, messily prying open his balled fist to interlace their fingers.   
  
"Feeling good?" He bent down and whispered into his left ear, hot breath circulating around his nerves. His right hand still grasped onto Takaomi's waist, wrist hooked in an angle that allowed his fingers to brush against the underside of his stomach. Takaomi shuddered.

  
  
Glaring back at Senri in his current position proved to be hard.

  
"S-shut up." Gathering up the strength to be as curt as usual was difficult, his voice having lost the hard edge, thoughts and calculations dissolving into mush due to the rough ass-pounding he was currently receiving. 

  
The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the room, wet and obscure. Occasionally, their moaning and panting would fill up the long gaps of silence in the room. It still feels oddly empty, Takaomi notes. He settles for burying his face into his pillow, sinking his features inside the fluffiness, muffling both his expressions and sounds.

But then Senri starts easing down, his thrusts’ frequency slowing from regular to sporadic.

He pulls out rather suddenly with a wet pop. Feeling the sudden emptiness, Takaomi perks up, opens his mouth to vocalise a complaint, right when Senri reaches from behind, reaches to cup a hand at his cheekbones, threading pruney fingers through stray purple strands.

“Turn over? Just lie on your back,” he felt strands of his hair being rubbed together. “I want to see your face.” He continued, still toying with his locks.

Mentally, Takaomi scoffs at that comment. Considering their complicated rivalry, this couldn’t be further from the usual truth. He obliges anyway, turning around with a helping hand from Senri, who grabbed his upper arm and directed his body around.

Once he settles in, Senri gives him a determined gaze, a quick nod, then directs his erection towards his entrance, gradually sinking it back inside of him with a loud, audible moan.

Takaomi too gasps at the contact, sighs at the feeling of being filled right to the brim again. He notices he could see his dick, throbbing hard and glimmering with various fluids, snugly disappear into him. It served as a confirmation that this is actually happening, they're actually having sex: it’s both incredibly mortifying and a huge turn-on at the same time.

It felt like he, or rather, -they- were crossing into unknown territory, breaking unspoken rules in-between roommates, their rivalry relationship. He parts his legs a bit more so Senri would have better contact.

Senri starts picking up his pace pretty soon, thrusting deep into his prostate while keeping his gaze on Takaomi. It looks like he’s thinking about something, he notes, and right when he’s about to move his hand over to cover his face, Senri makes a move.

He leans forward, closer to him, and reaches over to brush his forearm out of the way.

“Embarrassment looks good on you, y’know.” Senri whispers, near lovingly, and Takaomi has to wonder if he’s being genuine, or if his actor side is at play again.

He doesn't have time to dwell on the subject, however, as the other delivers a particularly hard thrust to his prostate, knocking his speculations right out of his mind.

“A-ah!” Saliva dribbles out from the corner of his mouth. Senri looks delighted by his reactions.

Despite his mind being distorted, fogged by heavy lust, he tries his best to return Senri’s gestures: opting to wrap his legs around his waist, arms clinging around his neck, occasionally patting and rubbing circles into the other’s shoulder blades.

His change of posture allows Senri to enter deeper inside of him, and he does: He could feel the way the other’s erection pounded deeper in, the way his balls slapped against his bottom with each thrust, the wet squelch of bodily fluids, the way his genitals bounced from the impact. It was all sparse and rough and very, very primal.

He could feel the way Senri’s gaze seared holes into him, fiery and passionate, like they were actually a couple, _two people in love_ , and were treating this like it was an emotional bonding experience, instead of two horny teens finding a way to make-do.

Precum starts leaking out of the tip of his erection, sticky droplets flinging onto his torso. He feels dense heat pool at his hips, the heavy fog of lust growing thicker than ever.

Takaomi finds it all very overwhelming. He finds himself pondering how it led to this.

Maybe it’s the “Opposites attract” bullshit. 

Maybe that would explain Senri’s actions: why he kept trying to touch him, why he used his gravure magazine as bait, why he’d suggested having sex, _why he himself agreed to this._

Maybe Takaomi was attracted to Senri in a weird way, too.

Either way, it was too late. Takaomi was sure he can’t return from this sudden self-realization. And oddly enough, he doesn't regret it: he’s alright with the outcome, the conclusion.

“Ah-! I, I-!”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he stutters, clings his limbs tighter to Senri’s body and releases with a loud moan, moments before Senri cums as well, delivering it while burying a particularly hard thrust inside of him.

Takaomi leans in and kisses him.

\---

"Wow! Who'd thought the dumb lion who's usually so stuck up and prideful would look so lewd right now! You could totes compete with one of those AV idols." Senri snickered, reaching over to grab some tissues from the display case.   
  
“You came inside.” Blunt: words consisting of more statement than question. He was back to his usual moody self. Takaomi groaned, slowly leaning backwards, propping his back against the bed frame. He stares at the ceiling.

“This is going to take forever to clean out…” His gaze moves down to his stomach, now covered in his own cum, and mindlessly watches Senri scrub the sticky fluids away, hands moving gracefully across the surface.

  
“Can you stand? C’mon,” Discarding the tissues, he reaches a hand out. “I’ll help you downstairs.” 

“Yeah.” Accepting his hand, Takaomi mumbled in response. The two of them sluggishly made their way downstairs to the bathroom, with Senri supporting the majority of the other’s weight, footsteps careful and wary, keen on the lookout for accidents. 

They made a beeline towards the bathtub after stepping foot inside the bathroom. Senri carefully lowers Takaomi down inside cold marblestone, then moves to turn the tap on and settles in himself.

The bathtub slowly fills up. The two of them sit opposite in silence.

“So…” Senri starts, hesitantly, as the water starts filling past their kneecaps. “You might want to beat me up over this, but just hear me out!” His gaze floats aimlessly on the surface of the bath water. Takaomi stares with him, consciously pulling his legs closer to himself.

“I think I really like you. Touching you, I mean. Your reactions are nice,” His body bends forward. Orange strands of hair sticks to his face, framing it as it moves to hide in the bath water, turquoise gaze still kept afloat, slowly focusing its gaze on him.

“I feel like…doing it, _that_ , with you really satisfied my touching urge. Would you consider...doing that……again? With me?”

Steam starts bubbling up from the running water. Senri’s locks partly submerged inside the bathtub, now three-quarters full. His turquoise eyes snaps shut as his eyelashes, adorned with waterdrops, lightly pulls his eyelids closed.

Takaomi notices he’s feeling unreasonably warm too. The bathwater must be why his face is heating up like this.

“Whaddya say?” His question creates bubbles underwater.

Takaomi only hums in response.

**Author's Note:**

> (Insert why do you fuck like a rabbit joke here)


End file.
